The jungle at night breathed slowly.
Crickets chirred in lazy loops. Wind shifted through trees like a tired sigh. Lights from the Core pulsed gently behind the perimeter fence, casting long shadows.
Tarn sat alone near the edge of the settlement, helmet beside him, arms resting on his knees. He stared at nothing.
Toren approached, quiet enough not to disturb—but not silent enough to surprise.
Tarn didn't turn.
"You think she's right?" he asked. "Mira?"
Toren sat beside him.
"She's usually right. But not always fast about it."
A thin grin tugged the corner of Tarn's mouth.
They sat a while.
"You were awake for it all," Tarn said. "The Empire. The purge. Jedi gone. The rise of that—thing."
"I was born after the story ended," Toren replied. "Then woke up before it began."
Tarn turned toward him finally.
"That mean you know how it ends?"
Toren thought about it.
Then shook his head.
"I don't think the galaxy does end. Just changes hats."
Tarn chuckled once. Then his expression settled.
"I want to stay."
Toren didn't answer right away.
"Not as a soldier," Tarn said, more softly. "Not to fight. I want to build something. I've never… done that."
Toren nodded.
"Then stay."
From the Core steps, Mira stood in the shadow of the relay tower. She watched them—two silhouettes on the edge of what they were building. Her arms were folded, but her eyes weren't hard.
They were watching.
Then, without a word, she turned and walked back inside.